A New York Yankey in King Uther's Court
by Byakugan789
Summary: When Tony Stark fell through the portal in the Avengers Movie, it closed around him. In the movie he fell out of it with barely a flash of blue light to be woken up by the HULK, but what if that wasn't all that happened? What if when the portal closed upon Tony, Stark fell out elsewhere as well? For your enjoyment, the tales of Tony Stark as he throws Camelot... into chaos!


A New York Yankee in King Uthers court

By Byakugan

Disclaimer. The story of the Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court is an old and well written short story and to my eternal regret does not belong to me. Neither in fact does the TV series Merlin, which is a real pity because their misuse of lore was frightening.

Summary: when the portal closed on Iron Man at the end of the Avengers, not everything made it back. While the Hulk revived him that missing piece landed a long time ago in a land far… far away.

_Good bye, Pepper._

Tony Stark watched in quiet satisfaction as a blue light enveloped the Chitauri ship, tearing it and the surrounding fleet apart. It was a pyric victory, he realized as he floated back toward the portal. He had known that the moment he'd grabbed the cosmic blue nuke, but he'd done it anyways. Why, he wasn't entirely sure. He wasn't a hero, something he'd oft been told and always agreed with. Bragging rights, perhaps? No, he hadn't really expected to survive this.

He smiled. What difference did it make? Pepper was safe and that was all that mattered, he thought as the portal closed around him. He'd made his peace with… what?

Anthony "Iron Man" Stark was shaken out of his fatalistic contemplations by the sudden onset of gravity. The forward view of his facemask went wild as he tumbled through the air at 9.8 meters per second and gaining. It seemed he was getting a second chance, he thought grinning. Such is the life of a hero! Connecting to JARVIS via the neural data link in his helmet he began firing palm and feet thrusters intermittently in an effort to slow and stabilize his flight, ending in the center of a cloud.

"JARVIS; you there?"

"Yes, sir" came the tinny, mechanized British accent. "All systems are operational and running at full capacity, correcting flight pattern now."

"Thanks JARVIS, let's go home."

"Very good sir, however, if I may, there might be a problem with that."

"What is it JARVIS? Talk to me."

"I find myself isolated from the primary server, sir; from any server. It's possible I may need to test out the Nano-Repair modules earlier than anticipated."

"You're not having trouble with clouds now are you? I'm certain I designed you better than that."

"It's not the clouds that are bothering me sir, my communication array is showing green across the board, aside from it's the complete lack of communication. You designed me to be capable of tapping into any form of digital network that could send or receive a signal, but I'm not even detecting radio at this time."

"What are you telling me, JARVIS? That we're in a dead zone?"

"I believe it's possible we did not pass through the portal in the same location we entered it, sir."

"Quantum destabilization from the loss of signal generation aside we're talking about a point to point connection on a subatomic level, I shouldn't think drift would even be possible."

"Never the less Sir, we are not where we should be."

"I'm taking us down," Tony declared, folding into a dive and firing thrusters. It didn't take long to leave the cloud cover and the sight that greeted him was most definitely NOT New York City. There, surrounded by a large green forest of oak and elm stood a large medieval castle with numerous thick towers and an open courtyard. People milled around through a bustling, walled town and three large cobble stoned roads. It could have been business as usual as far as Tony knew except for the massing of people in the castle yard.

Throwing discretion to the birds as usual he flew in for a closer look, stopping just over the main hall with a good view of the proceedings below.

"—found guilty of the crime of conspiring to commit sorcery in the realm of Camelot; a crime for which the punishment is death, to be carried out by beheading. Executioner."

_Sorcery?_ Tony thought. _Seriously?_ Didn't these people know magic didn't exist? Obviously not; judging by the man in furs and a crown beneath him sentencing a man to death. Disgusted that such a barbaric place still existed Tony dove down and landed on the platform in a crouch beside the prisoner, one hand raised to catch the axe.

"What is the meaning of this?!"

Tony looked up to see the crown guy shouting for his knights, obviously the first to recover from his customary entrance.

"Here, let's get you out of there," he said, yanking the axe out of the other man's hands and picking the victim up by the shoulder. Satisfied the man could stand on his own; Tony broke the weapon over his knee and looked around. He was out of ammunition, having used it all in the recent battle with the Chitauri. His thrusters and armor could still do a lot of damage, but nothing pinpoint or easily long range, which was a problem with the gathering or crossbowmen and knights that were flooding into the area. He turned to the man he'd just helped, snorting as the young man, no more than 20, flinched at the sight of his visor. "Need a lift?" he asked. The man nodded, then went stiff as Tony grabbed him. "Hang on!" he said and grinned at the screams as he blasted off.

Mary Collins stared at the sky where her son had disappeared over the roofs of Camelot, a tremulous smile on her lips._ Thank Odin,_ were the only words that came to mind. Her son was safe. Damned fool boy, getting himself caught like that. He was lucky such a powerful sorcerer had been on hand to rescue him when she couldn't. Damn him. Damn King Uther and his laws. Damn the knights of Camelot and their strong armed numbers. And damn everyone else's lack of organization. Sorcerers were solitary creatures by nature, only coming together in small communities for common goals. Such had been their undoing when Uther had turned on them. Now they were hunted, picked off one by one, like wild animals.

The old crone shook herself from her dark memories. They had been fools to stay within the lands of Camelot. It was best she be going too, before Uther's men came for her as well. Now if she could only find her son Garth before he did something stupid. Honestly, using magic in an open field. In broad daylight, no less.

That other sorcerer though, the one in red armor, he was brazen. Though truth be told, he had a reason to be. Falling out of the sky with nary a thought, and flying… She'd never thought to feel power like that. Not since the great dragon had been chained beneath Camelot. Decided, she ducked into a dark corner and made sure no one was watching her before teleporting away. She had places to go, people to see…

Tony Stark starred quietly into the fire and digested what he had just learned. He was a man of action with nothing to do and no way to go about it. This place, Albion, was not on any map he knew of and going sub orbital had proven… disturbing.

He had managed to determine he was in England, but not any England he had ever been to, save for fiction novels when he was five. This England was home to a very old and well established family of meta-humans (for he still refused to use the word magic in any form) who had the ability to project energy for a wide variety of effects. It wasn't nearly on the level of the Maximov girl's reality bending mutation, but it was close. The man he had saved, Garth—or Gar, as he preferred—was capable of telekinesis and pyro-kinesis along with other small cantrips requiring mantra to focus his mind.

Almost like magic, a voice whispered in the back of his mind, but he ignored it.

Then there was this Uther, the apparent king he had seen earlier. While not particularly keen on murder or execution, Tony had few qualms about killing his enemies and if anyone deserved such, Uther would be on that list. The man had a rap sheet a mile long, not the least of which was a bent of widespread ethnic cleansing comparable to the activities of Hitler, Stalin or Pol Pot. It brought back memories of Trask and his crusade on mutantkind. Perhaps this time he'd have the means to stop it… even if Tony didn't care much about the plight of mutants or these meta-humans, killing kids was something he detested.

Sending a thought to his armor, he retracted his helmet and helped himself to the soup his companion had prepared. It was surprisingly edible for having been made with only what Gar could gather or make on the spot. He glanced up to thank the boy and smirked at his gawking visage. "I can't very well eat your stew with my helmet on." He said drolly.

"I… I didn't… but how? Your helmet just… melted away!" the sorcerer said, struggling to find words.

"Not melted, folded. There's a space in the back of my armor where it fits in, ready to come out again should it be needed," Tony explained, smirking. He wasn't exactly talking down to the boy but it was always fun to prove how smart he was, even for something so simple and meaningless.

"Oh. You must be a skilled blacksmith as well as a powerful sorcerer." Gar replied, awe in his voice.

"I'm not a sorcerer." Tony repeated for the tenth time that afternoon. He got the feeling he would be saying that a lot.

"But I can feel your power." The boy insisted. "It's enormous. The only thing odd about it is it's focused mostly on the talisman on your chest. Your focus stone I guess." That last bit brought Tony up short.

"JARVIS" He said; an edge to his voice. "Full sensor array on the kid." Refocusing on Garth he spoke forcefully. "Use your powers again, and this time, keep it going as long as you can." As the boy did so the Iron Man helmet folded back out of Tony's suit and the scanning began in earnest.

"Sir, the boy is showing massive energy readings similar to those gathered from recent interaction with the cosmic cube."

"I can see that JARVIS, the question is what, precisely, it means. A mutation that allows humans to draw on the cube's energy would be dangerous; no wonder this Uther was afraid. A person with that kind of power backing them could do some serious damage. Cut it out kid, you look like you're about to collapse," he said, slapping the wizards arm lightly.

"Sir, you know…"

"What this means? Yes. These metas are my chance at going back." He glanced back at the boy across the small fire. "How do you feel about taking over Camelot?"

The great dragon paced furiously. It was all going wrong, just as his rook was about to step onto the board, the entire thing had been flipped over. Kilgharrah blasted his chains again with magical fire and claws, neither expecting nor receiving any release. Fury temporally abated he called out to Emrys. The boy had indeed arrived, but with this newcomer he was no longer certain how effective the lad would be at completing his appointed task.

An hour later the boy arrived; cautiously, tentatively he walked out of the hole in the wall and gasped upon seeing him. As it should be, he thought bitterly; awe, not hatred. "Hello, Merlin."

"How do you know my name?" the human asked.

"I know many things," the dragon replied cryptically. "And I've had centuries to learn how to know more. Like the nature of your own great gifts, and the reason you have them." He watched as the boy latched onto the idea eagerly, he was desperate for purpose as he had seen and expected. That was good.

"So there IS a purpose," the smaller creature asked him, voice feverish.

"Oh yes, and there was a destiny to go along with it too," he replied, sighing dramatically.

The boy stiffened, his voice now laced with dread. "You say was. Why, what has changed?"

"A man came to Camelot the same time as you did. A powerful player in his world with knowledge and power few here could hope to achieve. He was never supposed to have been here however and his presence poses a problem."

"The man in red armor. Yes, he saved that sorcerer, what's wrong with that? How is he a problem? The man should be a hero."

The dragon sighed. He could already tell this was going to be difficult. "Prior to his appearance your destiny, the very reason you were given your powers, was to become a companion to Arthur Pendragon, the once and future king of Albion. With your support and guidance, Arthur was supposed to unite the shattered kingdoms in a time of peace and return magic to the land, healing the wounds inflicted upon it by his father. Now that this newcomer is here, nothing is certain."

"Arthur, as is the one up there?" the boy said incredulously. "I'm sorry, but you can't be serious. You have to tell me you mean some other Arthur, because this one's an idiot. He'd rude, he's cruel, he's arrogant, and you should see what he does to his squires."

"Never the less, he is the only one who can free Albion, and without your help, he will die," Kilgharrah said, irritated. What was wrong with the boy, didn't he understand what was at stake? True, he had not lived within the kingdom of Camelot, but few places these days didn't shun magic users. Arthur's Camelot could change that.

"No, if anyone wants to kill him they can go ahead, in fact I'll give them a hand."

"Then perhaps it was your destiny to change him."

"What about the knight in red? I got the same feeling off him I'm getting off you and that sorcerer in the square. Perhaps he could build your Albion?"

The ancient dragon paused for a moment considering it. The idea certainly wasn't impossible, but he knew that with Arthur, Albion and his freedom were both certainties. Should this stranger be allowed to live… he wasn't sure what would happen. He'd never seen the timeline so… muddled. So… uncertain. "Alright…" Kilgharrah said slowly, "let the red stranger alone and we will see what we shall see. But promise me this, should the man in crimson armor try to harm Arthur you will do whatever it takes to save him. Even kill the man himself."

"B-but I…"

"**Promise me!**" he roared, the gust of his breath blowing out his visitors torch.

"Alright! Alright, I promise." Merlin said, crouching. Kilgharrah blew out a small puff of fire to relight the torch and flew off. This was going to end badly somehow, he just knew it.

'Why the hell did I agree to do this?' Tony Stark thought as he trudged up the main road of Camelot. 'This is so simple it's moronic. What could have possessed me to agree to this?' he wondered as he swatted aside a guardsman who had come to stop him.

"That would be the high probability of success, sir." JARVIS said, interpreting and interrupting his thoughts. Or possibly hearing them, he wasn't entirely sure how far his proprietary hardware to wetware interface went yet. Small testing samples being what they were…

"Remind me why that is again, JARVIS," he replied, blasting an archer who had just shot at his head with the suit's palm projectors. Normally a shot like that would kill a fully armored knight, but he was pretty sure the archer was far enough away and so he continued on, the crowds parting before him like a school of fish.

"Of course, sir, after our extensive questioning of the local, subject Gar, it was determined that this was a socially acceptable means of assuming leadership of a nation. Your march down the capital's main street is symbolic to the people that you're a strong ruler and carving your path to the throne room to challenge Uther is a message to the knighthood that you can't be stopped. With the knights being this period's government, you will need their loyalty to run the kingdom or spend time forming your own army."

"Still feels moronic. Though the plots in Le Morte D'Arthur weren't much better I suppose."

"Quite, sir." Tony frowned, he'd taken down fifteen guardsmen so far and they were only getting thicker. "Sir, they're barring the gate."

"I can see that JARVIS; thank you." Before him was arrayed nearly 30 more guardians, this time containing a quad of knights. Tony came to a standstill before them, looking left and right, making a show of starring them all down with the glowing eyes in his helmet.

"Surrender now, sorcerer! Stand down and we'll go easy on you!" one tried. Tony grinned. The guardsmen tried to surround him, their pikes forward and swords up. Stark grabbed one of the halberds' and yanked it forward and slapping the man across the head. The blow knocked him down and gave him a concussion. The rest of them surged forward and the fight began in earnest. Tony turned to the side, deflecting the weak metal of the spear points. Turning again he backhanded one of the guards and stepped forward to kick another. One after another they went down, a broken bone here, a concussion there, broken spears and bent swords littered the ground. One of the knights lunged in, his sword high, hoping to strike off his head. JARVIS highlighted the blades most likely trajectory and Tony caught it, activating a short burst from the palm RT's and shattering the blade. The knight in question looked like he was going to cry and Stark punched him in the gun, doubling the man over.

And then it was over. All around him lay men, groaning, crying and unconscious while the townspeople looked on in shock, awe and not a little bit of horror. Tony turned so that he appeared to be looking at them out of the corner of his eye before returning to face the gate. "JARVIS, divert power to the forward chest RT." There was a slight whining sound and the triangle on his chest flared, lancing forward to smash the heavy wooden door to splinters.

The rest of the trip through the castle was much of the same. He got lost a few times but eventually came to another heavy wooden door with an array of knights before it, full armor and swords at the ready. "Now what do you think that's supposed to do?" he asked.

The knights looked at each other. After several moments a tall blond stepped forward. "We can't allow you to go any further, sorcerer. This ends now."

"Indeed it does," Tony agreed. "Indeed it does." He surged forward, boxing his way through the assembled knights, yanking away shields and bending swords in half. After the knights were down he took up one of the larger swords and kicked the door in.

The chamber beyond was large with vaulted ceilings and numerous pillars framing a long, red woolen carpet that looked as if it had seen better days. A pair of ornate, high-backed chairs stood at the end of the room and against the walls gilded tables that looked as if they were used for banquets stood barren. The room had roughly a dozen frightened people in what he could only assume was fancy clothing and several more of those knights. One of them charged him and he slashed, meeting his opponents blow and knocking the sword out of his hands. The man's sword sailed off to clatter against a nearby column and Stark grabbed the stunned knight. Taking the man's forearm he ripped off the gauntlet and hit the man over the head with the hilt of his stolen sword. The knight went out like a light, uninjured, but Tony wouldn't envy him the headache he'd have in the morning.

His momentary task done Tony took his trophy and scanned the gathering for the king. Uther stood there close to the throne, clothed in armor and furs as he had been earlier. "What is it you want?"

"Uther Pendragon!" Stark said, using JARVIS speakers to enhance his voice. "Murderer, tyrant, traitor… hypocrite! For the senseless slaughter of nearly a thousand innocents; men, women and _children,_ I challenge you! A duel for the fate of the kingdom, Winner takes all. Beat me, and you shall have my armor, and my life. Lose, and Camelot is mine. Refuse me… and I shall reveal your treachery to the entire land of Albion. If your children don't kill you after that, the other kingdoms will." Thus said he threw the gauntlet he had taken off the knight at Uther where it hit him on the breastplate and fell at his feet.

Uther picked up the gauntlet, staring at it as if it was a poisonous snake about to bite him. "And what possible treachery could you reveal," he asked, his voice calm and scathing "that it would bring such dire consequences? After all, I am king. Any… treachery I might have committed against my predecessor was lost when I took his crown."

"The nature if your son's birth." Stark said simply, smirking under his helmet. Gar had been quite forthcoming when their talk had turned to the war. The lad had been merely 4 when it started, but his mother had apparently obsessed about it. It was quite an interesting tale in fact, as there was so little written about Uther and the founding of Camelot in Le Morte D'Arthur aside from the fact the he was _supposed_ to have died while Arthur was a small child.

Uther Pendragon had been a noble, a knight in the service of his king and had reportedly been very vocal about the wars in which the small kingdom was taking part. What his stance was, Gar hadn't known but young Uther had gathered a following and started a civil war. A masterful strategist and swordsman even at 15, Uther had fought a war on numerous fronts, though never more than 3 at a time. By the time he was 20 Uther had taken Camelot and six other kingdoms, personally gathering the heads of their kings and forging his crown from pieces of each of their own. His warring and reasons satisfied the man had brought a measure of peace and stability to the land that hadn't been seen in quite some time and forged alliances with numerous surrounding kings, a few of which had supported his bid for power.

Things continued that way for several years, the only real upheavals being good magic versus bad and the occasional border dispute with one kingdom or another. All ended quickly, but the queen lay barren, unable to bring him a child. Thus he turned to his court sorcerers for help. It was kept largely quiet, but there were few things you could hide from nosey women, and Gar's mother had been not only particularly so but a master of the arcane as well. Gaius had finally been the one to pull through, turning to the High Priestess Nimueh for help.

That was when things turned sour. One of the laws of magic was that life could only be paid for with death. To give life to one you must take it from another. Thus was the price of Arthur's birth. Or perhaps rebirth, Tony wondered. Arthur Pendragon was supposed to be the once and future king, sworn to return from death in Albion's time of need. How many lives had the boy lived? And how many did he remember?

And even better, why was he even considering this line of thought?

Shortly after Arthur was born, the queen died, and with her death began the purge, Uther's genocide against all things magic. Dark or light, good or Evil; not mutually exclusive terms Stark was amused to note, but it made no difference. Uther rounded up anyone and anything even suspected of being magical and had them publicly executed, their bodies put out for display.

Tony was no stranger to betrayal, not afraid to deal with his enemies permanently and certainly aware of the danger posed by lunatics with power, but despite all that and Uther's best intentions Tony still felt disgusted by the idea of him. How could he not have known? He had court sorcerers for crying out loud, certainly they had informed him well in advance what the consequences for what he wanted were? It was supposed to be one of the first laws of magic for crying out loud!

Tony understood a little of the grief and anger caused by losing your girl, but Uther's reaction had been over the top. Had he just assumed that because he was king he was immune to such bargains? Even scientists had to justify their work to get funding and safety checks involved in that were often exhausting. Something Tony was relieved he never had to deal with. Being the boss had it perks… oh. Heh.

"Guards, Kill him. And I'll offer a royal pardon to anyone here who wants to use magic to help make it so."

"JARVIS? New plan!" Tony said curling his hands into claws. As light and sound collected in his palms the surrounding court stepped back in alarm. Tony noted absently that Arthur was protesting his father's decision while a pretty raven haired girl somehow managed to hold the blond boy back with a single hand on his shoulder. A close friend, he wondered; a sister perhaps? She had a look of fascination as she starred at his hands.

Suddenly one of the remaining knights got cocky and charged forward, his sword raised to slash at his head. Tony acted as he had in his most recent battle, bringing a swift hand up and releasing the palm thruster. A 1% burst blew the man off his feet and sent him flying. The next several knights suffered the same and Tony turned his sights on the king, Uther.

"One more chance, buster, and then I blow you straight through that wall."

"Foul sorcerer!" The king spluttered. "Fine! Gaius, attend to the wounded. And you, I'll face you tomorrow morning in the stadium. A battle for the kingdom it will be. No use of magic or you forfeit."

Tony snorted; a sound that echoed through the visor like the huff of a giant beast. The crowd stepped back and Tony walked towards the back wall. Powering up both palm and chest projectors he blasted a man sized hole out the side of the castle and turned to half face the man. "I'll bring a shovel," he replied and flew off.

Mary Collins made her way out of the castle quietly, removing a stolen maid's uniform as she went. These were interesting developments indeed.

A guard spotted her and came charging over. "Hey! You! What is your purpose there? Don't you know the castle is under attack?! Get back down stair until Lord Uther gives the all clear." She turned toward him sharply, her eyes burning gold.

"Sleep," she said in the ancient tongue. The man collapsed like a puppet with his strings cut and the aged sorceress went on her way.

She had to get the word out. This could be exactly what they had been waiting for, a sorcerer powerful enough to challenge Camelot on his own. But even if he could win the kingdom, he'd still need an army to hold it.

And she knew just who to ask.

Merlin's mind whirled as he rushed down the steps to see the great dragon. A duel for the kingdom; it was hard to imagine. "Great dragon!" he shouted before he was even out of the tunnel. "Great dragon, I need your council! The man in red is going to kill King Uther tomorrow in tournament!"

There was a great flapping sound and the golden scales of the monstrous lizard dropped into view, the great gusts of his wings once again snuffing out Merlin's torch. Merlin hastily relit the beacon with a touch of his will and the reptilian sage spoke. "Death to King Uther… I must say, I approve."

"You can't mean that!" Merlin cried in dismay. As much as he didn't want to give the prat any kindness, the mere thought of someone killing his mother made his blood boil and his stomach clench painfully, he didn't want to imagine what Arthur would feel to see his father die, especially to a sorcerer. It would ruin everything the dragon had promised him.

"Oh, but I do. With Uther gone, my chains will be broken and I shall be free to leave this prison. Arthur will be king and you'll still be here to guide him, ease him into the promotion of magic and Albion can begin again," the winged mage replied simply.

"But Uther is dueling a known sorcerer! If he dies, that will tear Arthur apart! He'll hate magic and their users even more than his father does!" the boy protested, trying to make the dragon understand and offer help.

"Hmm… tell me everything." Merlin obliged, leaving nothing out. Kilgharrah occasionally asked a question here or there to clarify some detail or other. For some reason the great lizard seemed particularly interested in the exact wording of the strangers ultimatum. In the end the beast seemed satisfied. He nodded, as if to himself, and spoke. "Here is exactly what you should do."

Cenred gazed down thoughtfully on the man kneeling before him. His spies had proven themselves worth their weight in gold this day. A sorcerer challenging Camelot, who'd have thought the day would come?

Certainly it had happened many times before; his rival's kingdom had a long history of intense magical conflict. The difference was, ever since the purge, no magic user who had shown their colors in Camelot had ever walked out again.

At least not alive…

This man in red armor was different though. Tall, his spies had reported, with a voice that boomed like an angry god. The wizard's eyes had been reported to glow with a perpetual fire and in his crimson and gold full plate mail he fought with the strength of a giant, smashing through walls and taking down the local knights without bothering to wield a weapon.

As if such a monster would need one, he thought ruefully. This man was a living weapon. The question was; whose? People like that didn't just appear out of the sky one day; he had to work with someone. Cenred trusted his spies, but only to a point.

Regardless of that however, Camelot would be weak in the wake of the man's path. Even if he didn't manage to take the kingdom he'd leave it in a state ready for conquering. Cenred would prepare his army. Should the stranger win a show of force would be a good way to secure an alliance, but if he lost? Well then, Camelot would be his at last.

Merlin watched from hiding as Arthur fumed. The blond was beating the tar out of knights in the courtyard and cursing up a storm. It was early in the morning and Arthur's father had refused to explain anything that had transpired to the boy. Currently the king and Gaius were holed up in Gaius' tower with the door locked as they had been all night.

"Put your weight into the blow!" Arthur's voice rang out over the cobble stones. "Watch the foot work, I know you're better than that. ATTACK ME!" The orders went on and on. Merlin was sure he was actually scaring the other men, whirling around like a dervish, hacking, slashing, dancing around everyone's responses and snarling a constant stream of corrections the entire time.

Looking closer Merlin could see the sweat pouring off of him. The guy would kill himself if he didn't let up. Merlin wondered again, briefly, why he had allowed himself to be talked into protecting this ass. While the method was certainly unique, Arthur was throwing a classic temper tantrum as best he could tell. The only reason Merlin felt any sympathy for the prat was the chance that he was about to lose his father.

Sighing heavily Merlin pulled out a piece of paper and began to read in the ancient language, his eyes lighting up like suns.

"_Thrice of mine, and thrice of thine,  
then thrice again to make the nine.  
Protect Arthur Pendragon, O wall of nine._

Pale streaks of purple light crackled along the edges of Arthur's armor before disappearing and Merlin frowned, his job done. So long as he lived, Arthur would be safe. That, of course, was assuming he had pronounced the spell properly of course… Merlin fully expected the spell to draw upon his magic constantly, given Arthur's propensity for pissing people off. He wondered briefly where the dragon had found such a spell and if he could place it on himself. He had plenty of magic to spare, the way it was always leaking everywhere, it'd be cool to be invulnerable.

He turned around to leave and make his rounds for Gaius early and froze. Standing before him, jaw hanging open and eyes wide, was Gwen. "Umm… Ah, it's not what it looks like!" he blurted out quickly.

His outburst freed the mocha skinned girl from her shock and she began hyperventilating. "So you're not a sorcerer who just cursed our prince with some evil spell?" She squeaked, trying to sound sarcastic and failing.

"Ok, so it'd not entirely what it looks like." He said in a rush. "Could we get out of sight?" he begged, "Please? I'll explain everything."

Guinevere looked torn but grabbed his hand and dragged him off anyway. "Come along then, we'll go to my house, father's at his forge so we'll have some privacy there." She explained, not looking at him. Merlin allowed himself to be led and they soon ended up in a small, two story whitewashed house crammed between a bakery to the right and an inn to the left.

As soon as the door was shut Merlin found himself backed against the wall with the tip of a sword at his throat. "Explain," the girl said. Merlin noticed that she was really pretty when she was angry. Shaking himself, he began talking.

"The spell I placed on Arthur was to protect him. My teacher said that so long as I have magic to spare, any harm that came to the target would be held at bay by my own magic. The spells reads 'thrice of mine and thrice of thine, then thrice again to make the nine. Protect Arthur Pendragon, O wall of nine'. I'd let you read it, but I don't think you can," he said holding out the crumpled piece of paper.

"My father taught me to read!" She snapped, her frizzy hair fanning out behind her as she moved forward to snatch the paper from his hand. "Oh…" she muttered, her face reddening as she looked at the strange runes on the paper before letting it go. The paper fell from her hand and she glared back at him, her dark chocolate eyes holding little of the same warmth as they had the last week. "Well… I suppose you could be telling the truth," she said.

"Thanks," Merlin breathed. "The duel shouldn't be starting for another couple of hours, if you want I could try to teach you…" he offered. "Sorcery would do wonders for your seams work," he said, then panicked. "N-not that you need it of course!" he blurted. He relaxed when Gwen smiled at him. Everything was going to be just fine.

Anthony Stark floated just below the clouds, using JARVIS to enhance the image of the stadium below him. The place was packed with spectators, ready to watch the sparrow's fall. But who would they be cheering for? Uther, most likely, the man had conquered Camelot from the front of his army and held tournament champion for decades. It wasn't wise to go against the favorite, especially when the man was your king.

Smiling to himself he dove down and came in to land, circling the stadium several times just to show off. That done he landed heavily in the center of the arena in his customary pose. Rising slowly to a standing position Tony removed the sword he had stolen from the magnetic sheath he'd added to his back and waited.

The arena doors opened and Uther walked out, his helmet under his arm, full plate armor shining. The man nodded to him and donned the metal cap. His armor complete the king raised a kite shield and broad sword and swung.

Tony watched impassively as JARVIS predicted the man's movements allowing him to sidestep the old warrior again and again. As the fight continued, Uther attacked faster and faster, pulling out ever more complicated patterns with sword and shield to try and end him. After several minutes of this the king's face was red and he was visibly struggling for breath. It was as humiliating as it was deliberate. "Why don't you fight, you bastard!?"

That was the signal Tony had been waiting for, stepping forward he swung the larger sword at his opponents head. Uther was immediately on his feet, much of his fatigue mysteriously gone. Lame duck tactic, Tony snorted as his blow came into land, as if he hadn't seen that one coming. His sword made contact with the kings and continued on, not even slowing in its arc.

Unfortunately, this was not due to the incredible strength the Iron Man armor presented its bearer. Uther's sword had shorn his clean in half! Not that the king had gotten off entirely unscathed, the cloven piece of iron continued in its preappointed arc and slammed into the side of Uther's helmet knocking the old knight back several steps.

Tony held the sword in front of his eyes for several seconds staring at it. JARVIS was put to work analyzing the scarring pattern on the metal and calculating the type of edge and metal needed to do what Uther had just accomplished. The conclusion was returned quickly. Three micron edge, high grade tungsten steel with a high carbon ratio. Defiantly not possible in this timeline.

"Sir?" JARVIS spoke up as the screen cycled through data. "The blade in question seems to be projecting an unidentifiable energy field. Combined with the incongruences in the make of the blade I would postulate that magic was involved in the making of this anomaly."

"There's no such thing as magic JARVIS, but I agree. King Bluster here is using a metahuman to cheat for him. JARVIS, highlight all unusual energy sources." Throwing his shortened sword away Iron Man knocked the next stroke aside with his hand and brought the other in for a punch that would cave in the man's breastplate and pass through Uther's chest. Uther blocked with his shield and as it took the blow it lit up in Tony's display like a neon sign. The blow was caught without so much as shaking Uther's arm. The sword came at him again and Stark caught it between his palms.

"Just so you know," Tony spoke, the filter on his mask only loud enough for Uther to hear. "It's very bad form to agree to a handicap and not subject yourself to it." Then he tore the blade out of Uther's hands, caught it by the hilt and slammed it into the ground through Uther's foot.

The king screamed, but he wasn't the only one. As Tony tore away the man's shield Arthur and the pretty raven haired girl from before leapt the stockade wall and charged toward them. While the blond rained down blows on him with a speed he was unable to match the girl tried to free Uther's foot of the sword.

Both tasks proved quickly and ultimately futile.

"Why are you doing this?" the girl cried.

Tony scanned her, trying to find some sort of identifying traits and found the same traces of radiation on her as the boy he had rescued earlier. "Because I can?" he said flippantly, giving up trying to catch Arthur and simply ignoring his attack. "This man would see you dead if he knew what you could do, simply for being what you are. His type of bigot cannot be reasoned with, it's better simply to kill him."

"Kill me? I am Uther's own Ward! He would never harm me."

"So, some sorcerers are shown favor while most are executed then? Tell me young witch, does Uther's hypocrisy ever end?"

At his words the blows from Arthur ended mid-stroke and both teenagers looked alarmed. "B-but… I-I'm not a witch!" Morgana protested feebly. "I've never used… those dreams can't, they didn't always come true though!" the girl cried, her eyes wild.

_A seer then,_ Tony thought gravely. There were a few of those at Xavier's school. "I don't see how that matters," Stark replied calmly, walking over to remove the sword from the kings' foot. "So few of the children this one slew ever used magic powers, fewer still even had them. But they, or more often their parents, were _suspected_," he put special emphasis on the word. "of being mages as so they were killed too. Just. _To_. _**Make**_. _**Sure**_." He finished slowly, his filtered voice dripping with venom.

Ripping the enchanted sword out of the ground Stark turned around, the kings blade raised to strike of its master's own head. Reaching the apex of his turn Tony prepared to shorten Uther by a head only for Arthur to step in his way, halting Iron Man. "Get out of the way boy. This is not your day to die," he said softly, his posture relaxing slightly.

"No!" Arthur said fiercely. "Whatever manner of monster my father may be, he's still my dad. I CANNOT LET YOU KILL HIM!" the boy finished with a roar.

Tony starred at the young blond for a long moment. His father's own death, while far less tragic, still haunted him occasionally and he'd not had a particularly close relationship with the man. Arthur did. He hesitated to push the boy out of the way and press on. Uther could not continue if Tony was to ever get home, but did he really want to cause the boy this kind of pain?

His shoulders sagged and Arthur looked suddenly confused at Tony's lack of aggression. "Fine, boy. For a son's love." He stabbed the sword once more into the dirt and shoved the boy aside. "Uther Pendragon," he boomed softly, raising the volume on his speakers to make sure the entire crowd could hear him without needing to shout. "You have lost your right as king of Camelot. The castle and all lands and titles you held belong to me. From this day forth, you are my prisoner. If your subjects reject my authority, you die. If you escape, your son's life will replace yours on the block before I come for you personally." He reached down and took the man's right arm. Taking the wrist in his gauntlet he squeezed, crushing several of the bones therein. "A king must be his peoples' voice and sword, you shall have neither. Guards, take him to the dungeons and have a physician see to him."

Nimueh looked down at her disciple in quiet contemplation. Mary Collins' tale was certainly one worthy of looking into she decided. If there was any chance the girl spoke truth most of her plans would change quite drastically.

And the news was good…

Reaching the altar, the elder priestess of the ancient gods of Albion gestured at the stone, causing it to flow into the shape of a basin and fill with water. A few choice words and a sprinkling of herbs later the surface of the water rippled, revealing Uther's sadly living face. Nimueh frowned darkly. At least the man was in pain, she thought in disgust. A thought occurred to her and she widened the frame of reference to take in the rest of Uther's body.

He was injured. Rather badly too if she was any judge. A genuine smile creased her features as she looked back at Mary. "You've done well child," she said. "Uther lives, but lies in a dungeon, too injured to move." Turning back to her scrying, the High Priestess frowned as she saw Gaius enter the image and begin tending to the kings wounds. Perhaps there still would be a use for her plans after all, if only on a smaller scale…

Nimueh sighed, discarding the idea. Gaius was just doing what she had taught him, healing the sick and playing the fence. So long as he didn't interfere with these new developments she could afford to let him be.

Making further gestures towards the pool the ancient beauty turned her search toward the newcomer. A great power in red and gold armor, her subject had told her. One vying for the position of king; and successfully too, if Uther's own condition was anything to go by. After a few minutes of concentration, she found him in the throne room, holding court. Interested she moved closer to the bowl and added the stems of the periwinkle plant to allow her to hear what was being said.

These were indeed interesting times.

Tony stood patiently while yet another knight growled out his pledge of fealty and sighed within his armor. It was sort of a pity really that he wouldn't likely be able to remove his armor for a while, but those were the breaks.

"Rise, sir Ulrich, and know that your position is secure under my rule. May your loyalty never be worthy of doubt," he droned out, as the knight stood to be replaced by yet another. This had been going on for hours but, he hoped, it was almost over. There were only two knights behind this one after all. Mentally reviewing the names and faces of the men who had taken the last few hours swearing themselves to him and those he had struck down he came up with 67.

While that was indeed a lot of nobles, most of them were the lesser sons, brothers, cousins and uncles of the current lords who oversaw the lands of Camelot. He would be meeting with or subduing a reported two hundred some more over the next several weeks as news of his sovereignty got around. Finally dismissing the last one Tony breathed a massive sigh of relief.

"Now that that is done with I dismiss you all." He paused a moment to allow the explosive chaos of voices to occur as the assemblage expertly misinterpreted his statement. Tony waited several moments for the confusion and shock to turn to outrage before bellowing "_**SILENCE**_! Now that I have everybody's attention…" he remarked, letting his amusement pass through JARVIS's filters "I want my assembled knighthood to ride out and secure my kingdom. Go to your homes and inform your families and fiefdoms of the shift in power. Taxes to the kingdom…" he paused with a grin as everybody groaned "will be cut in half." He paused, taking in the stunned confusion and wonder in the crowds faces. "Instead I want you to use that money, and your own coffers to work on improving your lands. It's come to my attention that we have a rather sizable population of people who have neither homes, nor jobs. Use the money to round them up and start work crews. A man in the field is far more useful to me than one dead in the ditch."

Now that Tony was certain he had everybody's undivided attention he began pacing, his head slightly bowed as he handed out edict after edict. The prosperity of his company had long been a point of professional pride for the Starks and he saw this as being no different. Proper infrastructure was key to business and the same held true for running a country, or so he'd been told. For that he'd need better roads, resources and most of all he'd need to set up a proper method of education. Skilled labor was a must for any successful business or country and while apprenticeships of their current style worked it left a lot to be desired. He wanted to start introducing technology soon as well, but until things settled enough to set up proper industry, the metahumans would do well enough as a replacement.

"Also," he said now looking directly at the scribe who he had brought in specifically for this point and increasing the intensity of the eye lights for effect. "I'm removing the laws restricting use of …magic." He forced the word out, hoping no one noticed. Pushing on he spoke slightly louder, both to take notice away from his slip and to drown out the angry murmurs that had arisen from his statement. "Furthermore, magic users are not only to be welcomed in my lands but are to be declared wards of the kingdom. Anyone found to attack a magic user without clear provocation is to be publicly flogged. Anyone who turns a mage away from their place of business will spend the rest of the day in the stocks. And finally, any magic user encountered or found to possess the potential is to be directed to report to Camelot immediately. My scribe…" he paused again, looking directly at the boy "will be drawing up a series of posters detailing the offer of teaching positions to elder sorcerers and offers of room and board for the children."

"Everyone else is dismissed, you know your orders. Don't give me a reason to follow you home."


End file.
